The Dolhr Incident 2
by CammyGal
Summary: Cain and Abel run into some trouble while out on patrol; Cain ends up captured by the enemy soldiers. Will Abel be able to save him and stop the evil King before it's too late? Rated T for violence and language. Story in-progress!
1. Chapter 1

This is a revamped version of one of the first stories I ever read when I first got into fanfiction! With the original author's permission, I've expanded on the plot and added some details and chapters. Make sure to check out their original of this and other stories if you get the chance! ( u/2479131/Mariko-Midori )

**Chapter 1**

"I can't believe we're on patrol duty again. Again!" A guttural groan came from the throat of red-haired cavalier as he sat atop his horse. Cain tightened his grip on the reins and gently pulled, directing his way through the forest and following the path that had been forged the week before.

"It's not that bad," argued his companion, another cavalier by the name of Abel. "We'll be out of here in a couple days, anyway." The green-haired young man sighed as he caught Cain rolling his eyes. "You know how Jagen is about patrols. Even Prince Marth was a bit on edge about being in this area."

They were quiet for a while. The only sounds were those of the horse hooves thumping on the hard dirt ground and the occasional crinkling noise of leaves being trampled or bushes pushed aside. Suddenly, Abel broke the silence. "Do you want to take a break?"

Cain hesitated. They'd been going for quite some time, and had reached the furthest mark; a small forest clearing, shaped in a neat circle, completely devoid of trees. With a sigh, he grunted a response and jumped off his horse. He and Abel tied their horses to a nearby tree on the edge to keep them from walking off, and then sat down on the other end of the clearing with their backs against a large tree.

"How long do you think this war will last?" Cain was the first to speak as they sat, and he stared up at the sky in thought.

Abel didn't respond right away. "However long it takes, I suppose." Cain grunted, not satisfied with the vague answer, but didn't push the question.

They sat and just enjoyed each other's silent company for a few minutes. Abel ran his hand through the soft green grass, feeling the blades tickling his fingers. Suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed and his expression become hard.

Noticing the shift in atmosphere, Cain glanced over his shoulder to see Abel's concerned face. "Wha—?" His words stopped short as he felt the same thing Abel had; a low thumping on the ground, like footsteps. The redhead's sharp gaze locked with his partner's as the vibrations flowed through their hands that were connected with the ground.

Cain leap to his feet almost immediately, but Abel stayed on the ground for a moment longer, his hand still connected, listening through the earth. "Soldiers. Lots of them. Not Alteans. Most on foot. Coming from our left and in front." As Abel spat out information as quick as he could decipher it, Cain pulled his sword from its hilt and gripped it. The horses, along with their lances, were across the clearing and out of reach, but the two were not unarmed. As the red-haired swordsman scanned the trees for the signs of enemies, Abel joined his side, weapon drawn.

The bushes and plants surrounding the clearing were shoved aside brutally as men poured into the clearing, their blades glinting in the sunlight. The sound of metal on metal sounded harshly as the battle began.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Back at camp, the remaining soldiers mulled about peacefully. Quiet conversations were had, and the underlying tension of war was almost unnoticeable. Prince Marth, a handsome young man with striking features and ocean blue hair sat on a turned over log next to his right-hand man, the paladin Jagen. He was a wise old man, but his age did not affect his strength, and he was as strong as an ox even as his hair grayed. They had been holding a light conversation if only to pass the time, exchanging pleasantry words without any real meaning.

Marth's eyes wandered to the edge of the forest where two cavaliers had entered quite a while ago. "It's been some time since Cain and Abel left, hasn't it?" the young prince commented.

The elder man raised his gaze to see where the sun lay in the sky. It certainly was much later than when the two had left. "They have been late before," he murmured, with only a touch of uncertainty. "Perhaps Cain pulled Abel into a bit of mischief." Not wanting Marth to worry, he gave a possible explanation.

A smile spread across Marth's face. "It wouldn't be the first time, would it?" he said with a short laugh. The two cavaliers were known for getting into rather… adventurous situations.

Jagen murmured agreement, but didn't give a proper response. After a moment, Marth excused himself and rose from the log to answer the summons of another soldier, leaving Jagen alone in his thoughts. He couldn't quite shake the uncomfortable feeling brewing in his gut.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Abel ripped his sword out of the chest of one of the masked armored men. He lifted his leg and kicked the man into another, knocking them both to the ground. The green-haired cavalier panted, out of breath. He and Cain were fighting valiantly, but sheer numbers would be their downfall. A sharp pain ran through his arm as he failed to block an attack, and his clothing ripped as his skin was split from the jagged edge of the blade. Blood, glinting crimson in the sun, spilled from the freshest wound. His tunic was already stained red from the blood of the enemies, but there was plenty of own leaking out due to the many scratches and deep cuts that covered his body. Grunting in pain, Abel turned towards the attacker and raised his sword, slashing through the man's throat and nearly decapitating him. As the man fell over, Abel's view was clear to see the scene happening a few feet in front of him.

Cain was locked in a tight battle with a much larger soldier, their swords clashing together as each struggled to land a hit. Blood poured from wounds on Cain's strong thighs, and his legs quivered as he struggled to stand and push against the other man. Caught up in the fight in front of him, and not being able to afford to look away, he didn't notice the presence of another soldier creeping behind him. The foe's arm pulled back, sword drawn, and then thrust forward, spearing the weapon far through Cain's shoulder. The tip of the sword split through the fabric on the front of his clothes, the metal blade stained dark maroon with blood. After a quick moment, the soldier withdrew the weapon just as roughly, and red liquid gushed out from the wound in streams. The red-haired cavalier dropped his own weapon in shock; his mouth hung as if he was trying to scream, but no sound came out. The enemy in front of him took the opportunity to brutally punch Cain in the face, knocking him to the ground where he remained, unmoving.

_"Cain!"_

Abel screamed his partner's name and tried to rush forward, but his path was blocked by a powerfully built man._ I need to get help,_ Abel thought frantically. _We can't do this alone._ He tried to jump to the side of the soldier in front of him, but two large hands reached out and grabbed him by the throat. The thumbs of the giant man pushed into his windpipe, and Abel let out choked gasps and he struggled to breathe.

"Altean scum." A gruff voice flowed from the mouth of the enemy soldier as he sneered.

Abel could barely register the words as he pried at the fingers crushing his neck. He was weakened from the lack of air, and his struggles proved useless. Letting out short gasps, his vision pricked red at the corners. He gave one last attempt to wrench away, but the powerful man's grip only tightened in response. His strength gone, Abel's beaten body went limp as his world went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The sun continued its long journey across the sky, and eventually the day began to come to a close. Streaks of pink and crimson lined the horizon as the large yellow orb fell, painting a masterpiece over the land. Jagen watched the beautiful display; even after all these years, he never grew tired of watching the sunset. Still, tonight, it was rather less enjoyable. The two cavaliers on patrol should have returned when the sun was high in the sky, and yet here it was, having almost completely disappeared and there was no sign of the two soldiers. The uncomfortable feeling stirred in his gut again, and he scowled to himself.

"Jagen." The older soldier started as his name was called, and turned around to see Marth staring up at him, a concerned look on his face. "It's not like you to be so jumpy; are you alright?"

The paladin cleared his throat and straightened his tunic to regain his composure. "It is not me whom you should be worried about, Sire," he murmured.

Marth understood the meaning behind his words right away. "Cain and Abel have yet to return." Although he knew that the statement was obvious, it felt different to acknowledge it in spoken fact rather than just mindless worry. "The sun has almost set; it would be dangerous to look for them at night, but I fear that waiting until morning would have worse consequences."

With a grim expression, Jagen nodded. "I'll prepare the horses."

"Wait," Marth contradicted him. "I need you to stay here and keep the others calm. The whole camp has been on edge since this afternoon, and the last thing we need right now is a fight amongst ourselves." As if on cue, raised voices could be heard coming from a group of soldiers nearby. The blue-haired prince didn't even turn his head. "I'll be back soon."

Wanting to argue but knowing that he was right, Jagen sighed. "Be careful, Sire."

"Right." Marth nodded and spun on his heels, quickly walking in the other direction towards the horses. Jagen watched him go for a minute, then turned in the opposite direction to break up the fight that was developing.

* * *

Marth slung his foot into the stirrup and lifted his body up onto his horse. Without hesitation, he yanked the reigns in the direction of the forest and followed the trampled path that the two cavaliers had followed just that morning. His brows furrowed as his striking blue eyes scanned the trees for signs of anything out of place. 

Suddenly, he spotted something dark smeared on the ground. At first he thought it was just mud and a damp trail. _It hasn't rained in days_, he thought, feeling his stomach twist. Dismounting, he ran his long fingers through the wet earth. As he lifted his hand to examine it, his fears were confirmed; the liquid stained his fingers red. Leaving his horse stationed to a tree, he followed the streaks on foot. There was a splash of dark maroon every couple of feet, and he dreaded seeing the end of the trail.

Pushing aside a large bush and stepping over some shrubbery, Marth stumbled as the scene in front of him sunk into his mind. He dropped to his knees, and his tunic immediately soaked up the red liquid that coated the ground across the entire clearing. Slowly standing, his eyes scanned the clearing, taking in the gruesome display. Dead bodies littered the ground, unmoving, clothing ripped, skin sliced, limbs detached, bones poking out; it was a disgusting sight, but Marth couldn't tear his gaze away.

He took a few steps forward and then knelt down next to one of the bodies. Lifting it by the shoulders, he heaved it over so it was facing the sky. The dead man was wearing a small pin on the collar of his tunic. Marth unhooked the pin and lifted it up to the light so he could see it clearly. The insignia on it was clear, and the prince grimaced as he realized. Tucking the pin into his pocket, he left the body to rot on the ground and stood.

Marth's gut twisted; the probability of finding the cavaliers alive was low. While stepping over bodies and searching each one for signs of life, he finally came across a familiar face. He propped the green-haired cavalier up against a tree gently. Deep cuts were all over his body, and the imprints of large hands accompanied ugly bruises around the young man's neck. Fearing for the soldier's life, Marth reached out his hand and gently touched the side of Abel's neck, searching for signs of life.

"Abel. Abel!" Marth spoke his name, trying to rouse him. He pressed his fingers a bit harder, and at last found what he was looking for.

_Thump… Thump… Thump…_

His pulse was weak, but it was there. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Marth removed his hand from the beaten man's neck. Standing, he gave the clearing another scan; he had checked all of the bodies, but Cain was nowhere to be found. The young prince bit down on his lip in frustration. If Cain had been captured, there was a small chance that he was alive; it was clear that they had attempted to leave Abel for dead, and they would have left the other soldier as well if they had no motive to question.

Marth pulled himself out of his thoughts. There would be plenty of time to think about those things later; right now, Abel was slowly fading away and needed help immediately. With a grunt, Marth gently lifted the cavalier over his shoulder, ignoring the streams of blood that leaked out of the disturbed wounds that had yet to close. He carried the injured soldier back to where his horse waited, mounted, and raced off back to the camp.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Jagen paced back and forth, swiveling on his heels about every five feet as he moved monotonously. He could hear the younger soldiers murmuring about the missing cavaliers, and he sighed. Just as he was debating whether or not to follow Marth into the forest, he heard the familiar sound of hooves on dirt, and the prince came bursting out of the undergrowth. Even in the fading light, Jagen could see the shine of green armor, but the amount of blood staining the unconscious cavalier's body made his stomach drop.

Marth's eyes locked with Jagen's for a moment, but the prince couldn't read the elder warrior's thoughts through his clouded expression. He turned away from the paladin, directing his horse towards one of the tents near the edge of the camp. Dropping off from the saddle smoothly, he confronted a red-haired man who stood outside of the tent with his arms crossed indifferently.

"Julian," Marth addressed the thief who immediately gave his attention. "Where's Lena?"

Julian answered with no sense of urgency, and he rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed; his cheek was red as if it had just been slapped. "In the tent, there," he answered. "She might not be in th' best of moods though, eh? 'Cuz she kicked me out a coupl'a minutes ago, right, but all I did was—"

Marth didn't wait to listen to the rest of Julian's failed romance story. He grabbed the wounded body from the horse and slung it over his shoulder, grunting a bit from the weight. He moved past the surprised thief and brushed the flap of the tent aside as he entered.

"I _told_ you not to come back in here!" Lena held a pillow in her hand and was poised to strike; as soon as she saw who it was, her hand dropped the pillow and flew to her mouth. "Oh!" Color flushed to her cheeks as she realized her mistake. "Prince Marth, I apologize—"

"Lena," Marth's tone was serious as he cut short her scrambled apology. He still held the unconscious Abel over his shoulder, and he bent over to gently lay the body on one of the empty cots.

Upon seeing the battered body of Abel, tears pricked at the edge of Lena's eyes as she snagged her healing staff from underneath her own cot. Although she was a cleric, the sight of any of her comrades injured still made her heart ache. "What in the world happened to you…?" She murmured, placing her hand gently on the unconscious cavalier's arm. She closed her eyes and gripped her staff tightly, urging its power out and conducting the magical energy through her body and into Abel's.

Marth stood back from her as she worked, his arms crossed over his chest. He bit down on his lower lip nervously; it wasn't that he doubted Lena's ability as a healer, but he still feared for the cavalier's life. His mind was also wandering to thoughts of Cain; he hadn't been at the scene of the fight, nor returned to camp on his own. Perhaps—

Marth was pulled out of his thoughts and back into reality as Jagen threw aside the tent entrance and ducked inside. He looked at Marth expectantly, and the prince explained the grisly scene.

"What about Cain?" Jagen questioned, having noticed the absence of the red-haired cavalier.

Hesitating, Marth frowned and didn't answer the question directly. "I found this on the collar of one of the fallen men." He pulled a small pin out from his pocket and held it out so Jagen could see it closer. "Do you recognize that insignia?"

After studying it for a moment, the paladin nodded, but his eyes showed signs of surprise. "Gra," he answered. "That's the symbol for the kingdom of Gra."

Marth nodded solemnly.

"But sire, we're nowhere near Gra." Jagen contradicted him, confused. He turned the pin over, inspecting it, but there was no doubting the blatant carving on it.

"Maybe not, but these are not normal times," Marth spoke in a low tone. "Jiol's got his men spread out across many more countries due to the war; who's to say he doesn't have a fort here?"

Suddenly, Lena let out a loud gasp, ending the two's conversation as they turned their attention towards her. Her eyes flew open and she swayed, leaning on her staff for support. Marth knelt down on one knee and held her shoulders, steadying her so she wouldn't fall. "Lena, are you alright?"

After a moment, she nodded. "Yes… I am fine." The energy needed from her staff to heal Abel's wounds was greater than she had ever used before, and it exhausted her body as she pulled it forth. Composing herself, she tried to stand slowly, and Marth helped her up. "I can do nothing more for him for now," she murmured, her expression one of defeat as she looked at the unconscious soldier. The bleeding had stopped, and his wounds and bruises had been minimized slightly.

"You've done more than enough," Marth reassured her, grateful. Lena could stand on her own now, and the prince stepped outside for a moment to address Julian. They both entered the tent, and the red-haired thief immediately went to Lena's side, noticing her dazed expression and wobbly posture.

"Hey, there now," Julian murmured, his tone gentle as he spoke to her. "Let's get you some rest, yeah?" He led her over towards the remaining empty cot and helped her lay down.

Trusting Julian to look after the exhausted Lena, Marth gave Abel another glance before looking back at Jagen. "It will probably be some time before he wakes," he commented. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temple, frustrated. "There's nothing we can do for Cain except search blindly, but even that is dangerous."

Jagen put his hand on the young prince's shoulder sympathetically. "The best thing we can do right now is keep the soldiers we have now healthy," he advised. "Cain is a strong soldier; he wouldn't go down so easily."

Appreciate of Jagen's support, Marth nodded in agreement. "You're right. We all could use some rest."

As the two exited the tent and separated towards their own, Marth still felt traces of worry worming around in his head.

* * *

Anger and frustration kept Marth from sleep. After a few hours of pointlessly tossing and turning, he gave up and rolled off of his cot and went out into the night.

Sitting on a turned-over log, Marth rested his chin on his hand and stared up at the shimmering sky that sparkled with stars. Worries and fears twisted in his gut. The war was always on his mind; he hadn't had a chance to properly mourn his father, and he feared for the safety of his sister and mother. The pressure of protecting all of his soldiers was tremendous, and the smallest mistake could cost someone their life. His obsession with keeping all of his soldiers alive weighed heavily on his heart, and he felt sick to his stomach as he pictured Cain's potential fate. The longer they waited, the less possibility there was of finding Cain alive.

"Marth?" A quiet voice reached the prince's ears and he jumped, not realizing that he hadn't been alone. Turning around, his eyes locked with those of a young mage. Merric's dark eyes were narrowed slightly in concern and he stood a few feet away. Marth felt as if his heart had dropped into his stomach. Due to his earlier thoughts, his mind warped the image; Merric with a sword stabbed through his chest, Merric with his throat slit, Merric with a knife in his head… All Marth could see when he looked at the mage was death. Feeling as if he would vomit, the prince turned his head away quickly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Suddenly, Marth felt a small hand resting on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes and turned his head. Merric stood there with a supporting smile on his face. "We are all fine," he reassured the prince. "We will find Cain. He is alive, I am sure." Marth and Merric had known each other for many years, and the mage was well aware of the prince's fear of death, whether it be his own or one of his comrades. "You need to rest."

Marth hesitated, then slowly nodded. There was nothing any of them could do right now, and exhausting himself with worry was not the proper course of action. "Thanks," he murmured, offering Merric a weak smile to show appreciation for his support. They went their separate ways, and Marth returned to his tent. His eyes had begun to feel a bit droopy, and he collapsed into a deep but restless sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Surrounded by enemies, Cain raised his sword to beat down the ones in his way. His arms felt weak, and he couldn't move his legs properly. Stumbling forward, shoving men out of his way, he had only one goal in mind; he had to reach Abel. Suddenly, a loud scream echoed through the trees, and Cain felt his heart skip a beat. He could see the green-haired cavalier kneeling, his mouth agape, staring in confusion at the broadsword that had pierced directly through his heart. Abel's expression warped into terrified understanding, and his eyes lifted to meet Cain's. "Why…? Cain… Why didn't you help me?" The dying man's voice choked out accusingly, and his eyes glimmered with hatred. Cain couldn't look away as the body slumped to the ground in a pool of blood._

"Abel!" Cain's eyes snapped open as he yelled, his mind delirious. He rolled off of the small bed he had been laying on and fell to the floor with a hard thud. Trying to scramble to his feet, he couldn't find his balance, and all he could see was Abel with the sword stabbed through his chest, his green eyes glaring at him with that accusing and hateful stare…

Tears pricked at the edge of Cain's eyes as he mistakenly took the nightmare to be memory, and his breaths came out in choked gasps. "Abel…" Gritting his teeth, he pounded his fist on the hard surface of the bed in anger and frustration. Suddenly, two soft hands rested on his shoulders.

Cain's body jumped at the warm touch. He hadn't noticed before, but the room that he had woken up in was devoid of windows and very cold. Turning his head, he could see that gentle hands belonged to a woman of tall and thin stature, with purple hair like a pixie and deep green eyes that stared at him sympathetically. If Cain had been in a proper state of mind, he would have thought that she looked rather pretty. Instead, he stared up at her with blank, glassy eyes.

"You shouldn't be moving around," the woman scolded him gently. She hooked her arms under his and tried to tug him up. When Cain realized, he pushed up on his shaky legs, and she was able to sit him up on the bed with his back against the wall. "My name is Krystal. You've been asleep for some time." She used her sleeve to wipe away the cold sweat that dripped down Cain's face. Seeing that he was temporarily unresponsive, she began to unwrap the stained bandages that covered his chest, revealing an ugly and deep gash on his shoulder that had yet to fully heal. Scars littered his torso and arms; some were fresh and red, some old and pale. She tried to keep herself from rudely looking at them as she wrapped the fresh bandages.

Blankly staring at Krystal as she worked, Cain slowly began to regain his composure and the thoughts clouding his mind faded slightly. "Where's…. Where's Abel?" His throat was dry and it hurt to speak.

The purple-haired healer didn't respond immediately. "I don't know," she finally answered honestly. "But I can tell you where _you_ are, if you haven't figured it out." Her voice came out bitterly as she threw a glance over her shoulder, looking through solid iron bars to see the dark silhouette of a guard.

"A prison," Cain answered in a low voice, his eyes following hers towards the thick bars that blocked their way out. Light bounced off of something and caught his attention; his dull eyes lowered towards something on Krystal's collar, and he saw a small pin with an insignia on it. "… Gra?" He squinted, trying to see it better. "Gra is… nowhere near where I was…" He raised his hand and rubbed his temple, confused.

Krystal immediately covered the pin, as if she was ashamed or embarrassed by it. "Well, you're not actually in Gra," she explained. "King Jiol has forts stationed all across this part of the land." Brushing her purple hair out of her eyes, she lowered herself delicately onto the hard bed next to Cain. "What happened to you?" Her voice came out as a murmur, as if she hadn't really meant for him to hear.

Cain grit his teeth as he struggled to remember what had happened. "I was attacked… No, _we_ were attacked… Abel was with me." His eyes stared at nothing as he spoke. "I strayed too far from Abel during the fight, we should have been together, and…" He hesitated, trying to keep his voice steady. "I… I don't know what happened to Abel." _He's dead. He's dead and it's my fault._ Cain couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud.

Their conversation was interrupted by the door to the cell banging open, the metal hinges squeaking loudly as they moved. A large figure blocked in the entrance, and as he moved closer, Cain's mouth dropped open in shock. The tall, dominating man was no other than the ruler of Gra, King Jiol. "You're finally awake," the King spoke in a powerfully loud voice. As he took another step towards Cain, Krystal quickly got to her feet and shielded the stunned cavalier.

"Leave him alone, Jiol." Krystal put out her hand to stop him.

Laughing, Jiol didn't hesitate to grab her outstretched arm and yank her out of the way. She let out a surprised and pained yelp as he gripped her arm tightly. "If you know what's best for you, you'll stay out of the way," he growled in her ear. "Honestly, when you act like this it makes me even wonder whether you really care about seeing your brother again or not."

Krystal's breath caught in her throat, and she scowled. As Jiol motioned for the guards to move forward, her eyes widened in surprise and she realized what the King had planned. "Are you nuts?" She tried to pull away from him, but his grip on her arm was tight. "He _just_ woke up!" Her green eyes desperately looked at Cain, and she hoped he would put up some kind of fight, but the red-haired man didn't move.

The two guards that had trailed behind Jiol approached Cain and gripped him by the arms, harshly yanking him up from the bed. For a moment it appeared as if he was going to try to pull away, but his legs were weak and he stumbled; if not for the guards holding him up, he would have fallen. Lifting his gaze, his eyes caught with Krystal's for a quick moment, but he didn't have time to register the emotion lingering in them before he was dragged away, out of the room.

Finally letting go of Krystal's arm, Jiol gave her a good shove towards the bed and she grunted as she fell on its hard surface. "You're insane," she spat at the tyrant. "Don't hurt him." Although she knew her words wouldn't pierce his thick skull, she growled them anyway, glaring at him with hatred.

Grunting in annoyance at her protective nature, the king turned his back and slammed the iron door shut behind him. Through the bars, his harsh gaze stared down at her as if she wasn't worth the dirt on his shoe. "Unless you want to join him, you'll keep your mouth shut and stop causing trouble." He turned on his heels and took long strides away, leaving Krystal alone in the dim room with nothing but her thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The feeling of something cold and wet touching his forehead was the first thing Abel noticed as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. Soft hands touched his chin to open his mouth slightly, and a bit of water trickled in. Still half asleep, he was unable to swallow properly, and promptly began coughing, choking on the water.

Lena jumped in surprise; she hadn't noticed that the green-haired man had started to awaken, and she was startled. Slipping her hand underneath him to support his back, she helped him lean to sit upwards so the water would go down his throat. Turning her head, she called out to the thief who sat in the corner of the tent, fooling with a couple coins. "Julian. Would you please fetch Prince Marth for me?"

Grunting and slipping the coin in his pocket, Julian got to his feet. "Yeah, yeah," he murmured as if he was displeased, but he flashed a smile in Lena's direction. "But only because you said 'please'." Chuckling, he brushed his hand through her soft pink hair as he walked by to exit the tent.

The cleric rolled her eyes. Julian wasn't bad, but he had no sense of urgency and the tendency to mix up his priorities. Lena couldn't afford to think about her feelings towards him at a time like this, and she turned back to Abel, who was blinking slowly and staring at her in confusion. A bit of water trickled down the edge of his mouth from when he had coughed it up.

Smiling gently, Lena wiped the bit of water away with her sleeve. "Welcome back to the world of the living," she greeted him warmly. "I was beginning to worry."

Abel's head hurt; in fact, his whole body was sore. He was finally awake, but almost wished to return to sleep just to avoid feeling the aches. "How long…?" He croaked out a couple words. His throat was dry and it hurt to talk, but he had to know.

"It's been about three days now," Lena responded, the smile wavering a bit. "We were supposed to leave this area yesterday, but Prince Marth refused, saying that you weren't ready for travel. Plus…" She trailed off, not sure whether or not to inform Abel of the other cavalier's unknown fate.

Rubbing the back of his head, Abel frowned. His memory was foggy; the last thing he remembered was riding on patrol with Cain—! Stiffening, he looked to the other cot in the tent, hoping to see the familiar redhead, but it was empty. "Where's…" His voice broke and he had to clear his throat before continuing. "Where's Cain?"

The cleric hesitated in answering, and she didn't meet Abel's eyes. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the entrance to the tent was brushed aside and Marth ducked inside, holding open the flap for Julian, who trailed just slightly behind him.

"You're awake," Marth exclaimed, a relieved smile appearing on his face. "How are you feeling?" He hovered over the bed, standing next to the kneeling Lena.

"Where's Cain?" Abel demanded again, not answering Marth's question.

The prince stared at Abel for a moment before answering the question, trying to judge whether or not he was fit to hear the answer. Marth sighed; the cavalier would have to know eventually, and keeping it from him would just make him fret and use up energy he didn't have. "The last search patrol for the evening just returned," he murmured. "There's been no sign of him. We can only assume that he was captured by the men that attacked you. We…" He hesitated. "We are not sure of his fate at this time."

Staring blankly at Marth, Abel slowly processed the situation. Suddenly, memories flooded back to him; the men rushing from the bushes, the intense battle, Cain being struck down… Abel's hand rose to his neck and softly touched the hand-shaped bruises that still lingered. He felt sick to his stomach. Three days was a long time; anything could have happened to Cain by now, especially in the hands of enemies.

Marth bit down on his lip and furrowed his brow. "The best thing you can do for Cain is to rest and regain your strength," he spoke firmly. He placed his hand on Lena's shoulder and moved his ocean blue gaze down to her. "Take care of him," he murmured. "Let me know if I can do anything to help."

Lena nodded determinedly. "I'm doing my best."

Returning the nod, and excusing himself, Marth slipped under the cover of the tent.

Abel, who had been staring off into space, suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, and he shivered violently. Thinking about Cain's possible fate was too much for Abel's battered mind and body; he leaned over the side of the cot and vomited, narrowly avoiding Lena who quickly moved out of the way. He hadn't eaten for a few days so all that came out was a disgusting, watery brown mix. After a moment his stomach was emptied and he began to dry-heave, gasping for breath between convulsions.

Lena, avoiding the mess on the floor, reached to gently pat Abel's back. The cavalier coughed roughly until his throat was sore. He graciously accepted the water that Lena offered him, and panted for air when he was done drinking. Rubbing his head, he groaned in pain, and leaned back on the cot. His mind was racing, thinking of nothing but Cain. What was happening to him right now? Was he even alive? Questions pounded at his temple but he was powerless to answer them. Squeezing his eyes shut, another groan escaped his mouth before he slipped into a fitful sleep, plagued with nightmares.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Cain grunted as he was thrown to the hard floor of the cell he had woken up in that morning. His body ached and his breathing was hard, but he was able to climb to his feet and stagger over towards the hard slab that could barely be classified as a bed. Collapsing on it, out of breath, he leaned back against the cold cement wall.

The gate to the cell opened again a few moments later, and Krystal appeared; she shot a hateful glance at the guard before slipping inside of the caged room and over towards Cain. "What did you tell them?" She demanded. The purple-haired healer was a bit put off at the soldier's disheveled appearance; he had a black eye forming, and fresh cuts and bruises littered his bare torso.

Raising his gaze to meet the others', Cain let out a short, chiding laugh. "Nothing," he spat bitterly; the harshness wasn't aimed at Krystal herself, but rather at the situation. "I'd rather die than betray my country."

Frowning, Krystal used a damp cloth she had brought with her to wipe away the fresh drips of blood. "Don't let them hear you say that," she murmured. Using a dribble of magic, she sent sparks floating across the injured man's torso, slowly closing the wounds.

Cain winced, pulling away from Krystal slightly. His ripped flesh was tender, but after a moment, he relaxed. The sparks seeped into his skin and sent sweet relief through his aching body. Letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, he stared at Krystal with a bit of curiosity. "You're more than just a prisoner here, aren't you?"

Narrowing her eyes, Krystal hesitated before answering. "I might as well be," she answered angrily. "I take care of the injured soldiers like yourself that are unfortunate enough to end up in these cells." Staring down at the ground, she sighed. "The last one other than you just passed away this morning, beaten to death during interrogation. Careless work from heartless men." Gritting her teeth, she stood up from where she had been kneeling.

The red-haired cavalier gulped. Today had only been day one, and he had come to terms with the fact that he'd gotten off easy. Rubbing the back of his neck, and wanting to distract himself from the dread of the next day, he asked Krystal a couple questions about herself and her past.

They spent the next couple hours just talking; reminiscing about stories with other friends, exchanging battle stories, personal things. Suddenly, Krystal asked a question that caught Cain off guard.

"You've mentioned fondly of this Abel fellow quite a few times," she pointed out in a curious tone. "What is he to you?"

Cain felt color rush to his face; many of his stories had revolved around his friend. "Well, um," he stammered, not sure how to phrase it. "He… is my best friend." He spoke in the present tense, mentally denying the thought of Abel's death once more. "We've spent so much time together I guess, well, I feel a bit lost without him around." Cain couldn't bring himself to meet Krystal's gaze, and he stared down at his feet instead.

The healer stared at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sure he's searching for you right now," she spoke in an attempt to reassure the shaken soldier.

"Y-yeah…" He stammered, biting down on his lip. An awkward silence rose between the two, and Cain was the one to break it after a few moments. "Maybe it's best if we went to sleep now. It's late."

Krystal was surprised at his sudden change in tone and attitude, but she sighed. Speaking about Abel must have rubbed a sore spot in Cain's memory, and she regretted mentioning the topic. "You certainly need the rest." Getting to her feet, she wished him a good night before knocking on the metal bars to let the guard know to let her out.

Laying down on the bed in the now-empty room, Cain wondered if it was a good idea to send Krystal away. His mind was full with thoughts of Abel and the others; were they looking for him? Was Abel even still alive, or was his dream really a memory? Cain let out a groan as his head pounded, and he rubbed his temples. He didn't get much sleep that night.

* * *

_Crack!_

A loud cry of pain escaped Cain's lips as the leathery end of a whip sliced across his back. About half an hour ago he had been ripped from the confines of his cell and dragged to a rock quarry. Old bloodstains littered the ground, from past prisoners who had suffered the same punishment that Cain was currently receiving. The red-haired soldier gritted his teeth; he hadn't wanted to give the guards the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, but he couldn't help it. Kneeling, he hung his head, staring at the ground as he endured the pain.

One of the guards approached Cain from the front and grabbed him by the chin, yanking his head upwards and forcing him to look into his face. "Come on already, you worthless mongrel," he snarled, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled. "Talk!"

Cain smirked, his narrowed eyes staring hard at the guard. "Never." His voice was low and defiant, and he bared his teeth. With ropes binding his wrists together, he couldn't move his arms, but he clenched his hands into fists.

"I'll enjoy wiping that smile off your face," the heavyset man growled. He raised a fist and connected it with Cain's cheek, punching him hard enough to nearly knock him over. Cain grunted and coughed roughly; a bit of pink liquid, drool mixed with blood, seeped from the edge of his mouth.

Before he had time to recover from the punch, the whip was at his back again, carving long, red lines into his flesh again and again. Droplets of blood seeped from the openings and dripped down his back. The lashes stopped after a minute, but there was no relief to be had; the pain was immense, and Cain was dizzy from the blood loss.

The same guard approached him again and yanked his head upwards by his hair. "I'll ask you one more time, mutt," he growled. "Where is that cowardly prince and your little rebel group hiding?"

Cain struggled against the pressure of his hair being pulled. He was out of breath, but managed to find enough air to respond to the question.

"Up your ass."

Snarling in annoyance, the guard threw Cain downwards, smashing his head hard against the ground. The force of the blow was enough to knock him out cold, and he lay unmoving. The irritated guard gave him a rough kick in the side for good measure.

"Get out of the way, you bastard!" Suddenly, the guard himself was shoved aside. Krystal had heard the cries coming from the quarry, and knew it could only be one thing. As she spotted Cain on the ground with his eyes closed, and covered in blood, she felt her heart skip a beat. Could they have killed him so easily, so soon? Kneeling, she placed a finger to his neck and searched until she found a pulse. With a sigh of relief, she stood again, glaring at the guards that had committed the act. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she accused them.

They exchanged glances amongst one another, not sure how to react to the angry healer. One of the guards finally spoke up, and answered in a husky, dull voice. "We were uh, just following the orders." He shrugged, and the other guards murmured in agreement.

The outraged healer opened her mouth to give the guards a piece of her mind when suddenly, a loud voice spoke out from behind her.

"Take the prisoner back to his cell."

Krystal felt a chill run down her spine, and she slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. "What do you want, Jiol?" She made an effort to keep the fear out of her voice. Her eyes shone defiantly, but she couldn't stop herself from taking a small step backwards. As strong-willed as she was, the knowledge of being absolutely powerless against Jiol scared her.

As the guards from the quarry collected Cain's unconscious body to drag him away, one of Jiol's two bodyguards sneakily moved behind Krystal, cutting off her only escape route if she were to run. The king let out a short laugh, and smiled sickeningly. "Follow." It was a rude, one-word command, spoken as if he had been talking to a dog. With no other choice but to comply, the purple-haired woman grit her teeth as she followed the tyrant, guards flanking her on both sides.

She was led down a long, musty corridor. At the end of it was a large metal door, and Jiol stopped short in front of it; Krystal almost crashed into the guard in front of her. "Watch it," she mumbled grumpily. "Hey!" She let out a startled yell as she was yanked forward by the king who had turned around and roughly grabbed her by the arm. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She didn't know what was behind that door, but all her instincts told her to stay away from it, and dread twisted in her stomach.

Unfortunately, she had no means of escape, and she could do nothing as Jiol wrenched open the door and thrust her inside of the room. The door slammed shut behind her; the harsh metal clang raised the hair on the back of her neck. The musty room was very dim, and Krystal squinted, unable to recognize any of the blob-like shapes. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she stayed where she was, stiff with fear.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, two wrinkled, leathery grey hands appeared, a large orb resting in their large palms. Light began to squeeze out of the shimmery orb, illuminating the disturbing face of the hooded figure that stood close to her. She recognized him immediately, and her heart felt as if it was about to beat out of her chest. Taking another step away, her back hit the cold metal door. Holding the glowing orb out, the cloaked figure moved closer and closer, slipping across the ground as silently as if he had been floating.

Krystal began to scream.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Cain sat on the floor of his cell with his legs crossed, being careful not to lean back and touch the wall. The lacerations across his bare back were still bleeding slightly, and it pained him to move. As he stared at the ground with his head in his hands, he wondered how much longer he'd have to endure this. He'd lost track of how long it had been; Krystal had been his link to the number of days, but she had stopped visiting him. He worried for her safety, and missed her healing touch. She had often fixed the worst of his wounds until the pain was bearable, but she had stopped coming and the beatings had gotten worse.

More than anything though, he wondered if he was going to meet his end in this dark room, bleeding out while the guards stood around ignorantly. The area that Cain and the others had stopped in was only temporary, and if things had gone according to plan, they should have left long ago. The redhead considered whether or not they would pack up and leave without him, and he felt his stomach churn. Surely, they wouldn't... There must have been _some_ clue left on that grisly battlefield that could point them towards his location.

Rubbing his temples to try and soothe his pounding headache, Cain let out a low groan. He was tired, he was in pain, and he was lonely. With Krystal around, he didn't notice it as much, but now that he hadn't properly spoken to anyone in days, he realized just how much he missed his best friend Abel. It was strange, how much one could rely on someone's presence and not even notice until they weren't around. Even before the war, they had rarely been apart, and there was a hollow spot in Cain's heart that Abel's cheerful presence usually filled. Closing his eyes, Cain sighed. _Where are you now, Abel? Are you looking for me? _…_ Are you even alive?_

Cain was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of the metal screeching as the door to the cell swung open. He scowled, raising his head to meet the gaze of whatever group of idiotic guards had come to haul him away once more. One of the strongly-built men stared down at Cain, judging him to have about as much worth as a scrap of dirt. "Are you going to talk today, ya worthless bastard?" The guard mocked him.

Standing up on his own before he could be yanked up, Cain glared at the other man. "Bite me."

The guard scowled. "You're lucky Jiol thinks he can squeeze some information out of that weak head of yours," he snarled. "If it were up to me, you would have been put in the ground the first day." Cain didn't respond, but held his hard stare until the other guards got frustrated and acted first, forcefully dragging him away towards whatever punishment they had prepared for him.

* * *

Prince Marth sat on empty cot in the tent that Abel was resting in. The injured soldier was sitting up, clutching a canister of water. He had been explaining to Marth every detail that he could remember from the incident, but his memory was foggy and it took him quite some time to be able to sort out the order of events. Suddenly, another face appeared; the young mage, Merric, ducked underneath the flap.

"Ah, excuse me," he stammered, hoping he hadn't interrupted. He clutched a piece of paper in his hand, and held it out towards Marth. "We've managed to sketch out a map of the area," he explained. "It looks like there is a small town not too far from here…"

Marth studied the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. "We might be able to find some information about Cain's location from this village," he said finally, handing the map back to Merric. "We'll visit it immediately."

Nodding, Merric rushed out of the tent, presumably to go prepare the horses for travel. Abel's eyes widened; he threw the thin blanket off and prepared to rise from the cot. "I'm going too."

Not surprised that Abel would be quick to act at the premise of anything that would help Cain, but also unsure if he was in any position to be moving, Marth hesitated. The determined look in Abel's eyes proved that he would argue if he was told to stay. Sighing, the prince nodded his head and gestured for the cavalier to follow.

The two exited the tent and located the area where Merric had rallied three horses. Abel was a bit shaky on his feet at first, and even shakier on the horse, but he soon settled back into the comfortable and familiar rhythm.

The party reached the town fairly quickly; Merric stayed behind to guard the horses while Marth and Abel ventured into the small but bustling village. "We'll cover more ground if we split up," Abel suggested.

Marth nodded, but he put a hand on the green-haired man's shoulder before he could turn away. "Don't do anything stupid," he warned. "I know you want to find Cain, but remember where you are. We don't know anything about these people."

Abel nodded firmly. Satisfied with the response, Marth waved a quick goodbye and the two went their separate ways to scour the village for information.

* * *

Cain was led to a room that he hadn't been in before, and the mere sight of all the disturbing instruments in it made his stomach churn. He was roughly shoved against a wall and then quickly chained up by his wrists. The tender lacerations on his back tingled with pain as they hit the wall, and he winced. Whatever they were going to do to him, he just hoped they made it quick. "What is it this time?" He spat out, glaring at the assortment of guards that littered the room.

The response to his question was a swift punch in the gut, and he would have doubled over if not for the bindings that held him in place. "We ask the questions," yelled the guard that had punched him. He moved out of the way; another guard had nabbed a whip from the wall and unraveled it and was ready to strike. Rearing his arm back and then launching it forward, the leathery strip connected with Cain's face, slicing the skin across his cheek and creating a crevice from which a deep maroon liquid spilled. The whip came many more times, forming ugly lacerations across his face and chest. Cain writhed against the wall, trying to endure the searing pain. He couldn't keep his voice down, and miserable cries flew from his lips at each strike.

After what felt like an eternity, the guard stopped; probably more to rest his arm rather than out of mercy. The first guard approached Cain once more, shoving him up against the wall by his throat and giving him a hard slap. "Are you ready to talk now?" A hideous sneer spread across the guard's face.

Cain felt blood well up in his mouth from the slap, and he spat it out across the face of the guard that stood before him. That action earned him another harsh punch in the gut, and he gasped for air. Quickly catching his breath, Cain raised his head and glared at the guard. "Get it through your thick skull," the prisoner yelled, baring his teeth. "I'm not telling you anything."

The guard snarled in anger, slapping Cain again. "I should just kill you now," he threatened, clenching his fists and raising them in preparation.

"Do it, then," Cain dared him as he tugged against his restraints, his fiery eyes full of hatred. "Do it!"

The guard let out an enraged yell as he began pummeling Cain with his fists, landing blow after blow on a victim who had nowhere to run. With no means of escape, and not able to shield himself, he took the full force of every hit thrown at him.

After a moment Cain became vaguely aware of the fact that the punches had stopped; the fist that had been hurling at him a moment before was being held back by another one of the guards. The abusive man was pulled away by one of the others, leaving the redhead chained to the wall, the cuffs cutting red lines into his wrists. His vision wavered, fading from a bloody red to black. Cain's entire body was in torment, and he was tired, so very tired…


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The first building that drew Abel's attention was a rustic tavern. It wasn't extremely large, but a steady stream of people flowed in and out of its swinging doors. With a determined expression, Abel headed that way, subtly slipping inside and doing his best to blend in among the patrons. Taking a seat at the bar, he scanned the tables that were clustered inside the small room for anyone that looked of interest.

"Haven't seen you here before," a voice startled Abel out of his concentration, and he turned to see the barkeeper staring at him with curiosity. "The name's Telemachus, but everyone calls me Tel. You new in town?" His demeanor was friendly and welcoming; his eyes were full of youth even as grey hairs poked through his head and chin.

"Just passing through," Abel responded simply.

"Ah," the bartender nodded, then gave a short, dry laugh. "You sure picked a bad time to come through these parts."

"Oh?" The green-haired man's eyes sparked with interest. "Why's that?"

Tel gave a shifty glance around, as if to make sure no one else was listening. "You seen those four towers outside of town?" Thinking about it for a moment, Abel had seen the peaks of some kind of fort just before he and the others had reached the town; he hadn't thought much of them at the time, but he nodded to let the man know to continue.

"People 'round here call it the 'Hell Hole'. Every once in a while this big pack o' guys comes barreling out to attack whatever poor soul is unfortunate enough to be closest to 'em." Tel shook his head and made a 'tsk' sound with his teeth. "Some poor sucker got pulled in about a week ago. No idea who he is, probably just a traveler like yourself."

Abel's heart pounded and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm and not sound too eager. "My, er, traveling partner, went missing about a week ago." His eyes studied the bartender for any reactions. "Do you know what happens in that tower?"

Narrowing his eyes, Tel rubbed on his greying beard thoughtfully. "Suppose I never thought about it," he admitted. "No one that's gone missin' has come back though, so I can't say it's anythin' good. Shame about your buddy, though." Pausing for a moment, as if he was considering whether or not to say something, the bartender leaned in towards Abel. "Tell you what though," he said in a lowered voice. "There's a fellow in this village, yeah? His sister got taken to that place 'bout 5 years ago. He's been posing as a guard there ever since, trying to get the lass out. He comes back every day 'round this time, and he'd know a lot more than me if you want to ask 'im."

Abel thanked the kind bartender for the information. A few minutes later, the door to the tavern swung open and a large man in a dirty guard's uniform stepped inside. He swaggered over to the bar, heaving a sigh as he ripped off his boots and placed him next to the seat that he plopped in to. "Hey, Tel!" He had a loud voice, but it wasn't unfriendly. He ran a hand through his dark purple hair, pushing it back and out of his face.

"Welcome back, Kel," the bartender spoke in a casual tone as he waved. "The usual?"

The 'guard' grinned. "You know it."

Tel twisted a couple nozzles on the kegs behind him, mixing up the juices and alcohol in a strange mix. Sloshing it around a bit, he swung the finished drink up on the top of the bar within the guard's reach. He waved his hand, gesturing for Abel to come over and join them.

Abel got to his feet immediately and moved a couple seats down to be next to the strange fake guard. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, but his instincts wanted to trust this man. "You're a guard in those towers?" He questioned.

"Uh, yeah," The man answered, not understanding the point of Abel's question. "The name's Kelgar, or just Kel."

_Kel and Tel? _Abel thought with a hint of amusement.

"Yo, Kel, any luck on your sister?" The bartender seemed genuinely interested as he lazily ran a cloth over a dirty glass to clean it.

Taking a swig from his cup, Kel shook his head. "Not yet. They don't trust any of us guards to be on duty alone so it's always a big group, and there's no way I'm sneaking her out with all those people watching. Hell, I barely even get to see her anymore." He shook his head in annoyance. "What a bunch of morons. I just had to stop some dumbass from beating one of the new prisoners to death."

Abel paled; was the prisoner Cain after all? If so, what on earth were they doing to him? Tel leaned over the counter, motioning to Abel. "This guy says his friend's gone missing 'bout a week ago. He's uh," the bartender hesitated. "What was your name again, lad?"

Swallowing hard, the green-haired cavalier frowned. "It's Abel," he said, but his attention was focused on Kel, and his green eyes narrowed.

Noticing the reaction, Kel stared back at him questioningly. "You know the guy? Strongly built, red hair? He's a real tough bastard, never spilled a word of information."

Abel's heart pounded loudly in his head. That description fit Cain. Still, if it were true, what could be done? From the sounds of it, the towers were crawling with guards, and even if Kel could be trusted, there wasn't much he could do. Abel clenched his hands into fists, frustrated.

Kel frowned. "If you want to get him out, you'd better hurry," he advised, taking another sip of his drink. "They've just about pressed the poor guy to the limit, and they don't like keeping people in that place needlessly, ya know?" Feeling a bit sympathetic, Kel set his half-finished drink down. "Look buddy, I've been trying to sneak my sister out for years. If you can come up with a way to get both of 'em out, I'm help however I can."

"I'll find a way to get him out," Abel responded without hesitation. "Your sister, too. Do you have a map of the place?"

Nodding, Kel pulled out a crinkled piece of paper from one of his pockets. "I've been there for so long I don't really need this anymore, so here ya go." He slid it across the counter towards Abel, who immediately picked it up and began to study it. Kel watched him for a moment before turning his glass over and downing the rest of the drink in one gulp. "If you've got any more questions, kid, you better ask them now." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "I've just got a short break today, and the other guards will be wondering where I am by now."

Abel clutched the map in his hands, his face hard with concentration. "I'll… find a way," he repeated again, his voice low as if he was murmuring to himself and not to Kel.

The guard nodded. He laid a couple coins on the bar's counter and said his goodbyes to Abel and Tel. Getting up from his seat, he stretched, before taking long strides towards the exit. He pushed the door open and took a few steps towards path to the towers.

"Kel!"

He turned around as his name was called, and he saw Abel bursting out from the tavern entrance and jog up to him.

The green-haired man's face hadn't changed from its hard expression. "Could you do me a favor?"

"What do you need?"

The ghost of a smile pricked at the corners of Abel's mouth, and his green eyes shone with fiery determination.

"Tell Cain I'll see him soon."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Kelgar returned to the cluster of towers that had been dubbed the 'Hell Hole' by the villagers. He made his way down the halls of the leftmost tower, murmuring greetings to other guards that he had made acquaintances with. Unlocking and opening a large door, he slipped inside. After checking to see that the room was devoid of other guards, he quickly relocked the door behind him, restricting access from anyone on the outside.

No one had bothered to return Cain to his cell; he hadn't even been unchained from the wall. Kelgar felt a bit of guilt; the red-haired man's body wrists were straining against the cuffs, his head hanging pitifully towards the ground. Some blood still dripped from his untreated wounds, and the wall and floor around him were stained a dark maroon. Approaching the prisoner, Kelgar held him against the wall to keep him from slipping as he undid the bindings. Lowering him gently to the ground, the guard knelt down to be eye-level with Cain.

Cain's chest rose and fell slowly, and his eyes began to flutter open. Rubbing his tender wrists, he winced at first as he leaned against the wall, but soon the cold cement began to soothe his heated skin, and he relaxed. His body was numb, and he had no complaint about that fact. He would rather feel nothing than the endless stream of pain that him writhing for the past few days. Suddenly noticing the guard's presence, Cain's stomach dropped. _Come to finish the job? Just make it quick._

"Are you okay?" Kelgar asked, genuine concern showing on his face. He pulled an old cloth from his belt and wiped Cain's face, clearing away the blood and grime.

Cain flinched as the cloth came near, but allowed the guard to run it over his face. Not immediately processing the words properly, he stared at Kelgar in confusion for a moment. He then slowly nodded, but his expression stayed the same. "Who…" He had to take a moment to gather enough breath to speak. "Who are you?"

"Call me Kel," he answered simply. "It's okay, I'm here to help you." From underneath his guard's jacket he pulled a bundle of bandages wrapped in cloth. He began to clumsily treat Cain's wounds, wrapping the bandages around his torso to absorb the blood. As he placed pressure on the worst spots, Cain winced, clenching his teeth. "Ah, sorry," Kelgar murmured. "My sister was the healer of the family, not me."

Cain continued to stare at Kelgar as he worked, suspicion lingering in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" Studying the guard, Cain thought he recognized him from somewhere, but he couldn't place it; his tall build and dark purple hair were strikingly familiar.

"I've got my reasons," Kelgar responded with a faint smile. "Oh, I ran into a buddy of yours. Seemed real worried about ya."

Cain's breath caught in his throat. "Who?" He demanded, shifting slightly and wincing again as he disturbed the tender wounds. His mind raced; the league was growing, it could have been anyone, but maybe…

Surprised at Cain's sudden outburst, Kelgar answered. "A green-haired fellow, he called himself Abel. Said something about seeing you real soon—"

He cut off as Cain grabbed the collar of his shirt. "You're sure?" The red-haired man had a demanding tone once again, his face hard and his eyes shining with mixed emotions. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Kelgar grabbed Cain's hand and pried it off his shirt collar. "What's there to joke about?"

Cain's dark eyes stared hard at Kelgar and tried to find signs of lies, but the guard seemed to be telling the truth His heart pounded loudly in his head, and he closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall. "Abel's alive," he breathed; his best friend, his partner, was alive and well, and looking for him. Relief flooded through his body as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

A harsh pounding on the door ripped Cain out of his thoughts, and Kelgar cursed under his breath. "Shit! I didn't think they'd be back for you so soon." Jumping to his feet, he dashed over to the door to unlock it. He calmed his features, and his expression was borderline apathetic as he yanked open the door. "What?"

A couple of guards shoved themselves through the doorway. "Orders to take the prisoner back to the cell," one of them mumbled. "What were you doing?"

"Just, uh… interrogating," Kelgar lied, casting a glance over towards Cain as the guards yanked him to his feet. "Uselessly, though." The guard shrugged, not really caring; he'd only asked out of formality.

Kelgar felt a stab of pity as he watched the men drag Cain away, giving him harsh shoves on the back to keep him moving. With a sigh, he slipped out of the room, closing the door tight after the last of the guards had left.

* * *

Prince Marth placed the map of the 'Hell Hole' down on a table and stared at Abel with suspicion in his ocean blue eyes. "What was this man's name, again?"

"Kel," Abel spoke earnestly, his arms outstretched and his palms flat on the table as he leaned on it. "He's trustworthy, I can feel it. However…" He hesitated. "He'll only agree to help us if we can get his sister out of there, too."

"Going there would be risky," Marth pointed out. "We can't afford to draw too much attention to ourselves."

"We can't just leave Cain to die!" Abel argued in a raised voice. Calming, he lowered his voice once to a proper level. "Besides, whoever's in control of that fort already knows we've been here. They'll do what they want with that information, regardless."

Marth frowned, crossing his arms and placing one hand on his chin thoughtfully. The green-haired cavalier had a point. "What do you suggest, then? An ambush?"

Nodding, Abel pointed to a spot on the map. "Kel's said that Cain is being held in this tower, and his sister in this one." He moved his finger to an adjacent spot. "If he leads us directly to them, it won't take long at all. We've got the element of surprise; in the chaos it'll be easy to break them out."

With a short sigh, Marth looked at the map again. The entire plan would relied on being able to trust a man that he'd never even seen. Still, he trusted Abel's intuition, and they didn't have another choice. Raising his eyes to meet Abel's, he nodded. "We'll act as soon as we can."

* * *

Abel leaned against the side of the tavern that he had met Kelgar in the first time, crossing his arms and subtly blending in. His green eyes watched the bustling streets as he waited for the guard to show. They had met again the day before, and Kelgar was willing to go along with the plan. All Abel needed now was for him to show up, and they could proceed, but he was running late. Frowning, Abel shifted slightly, growing a bit nervous.

Finally, Kelgar appeared, darting through the street as he narrowly avoided the villagers. He hurriedly approached Abel, mumbled an apology for being late, and then yanked a note out from underneath his coat and practically shoved it at the other man.

Abel grabbed the note, and his face paled as he read the words that were written in large, bold font.

**EXECUTION: TODAY AT HIGH NOON**

**OPEN TO PUBLIC**

"T-this means—" Abel stammered out a couple words, but Kelgar interrupted.

"Look buddy, if we're getting your friend and my sister out of there we need to do it _now_."

Nodding quickly, Abel forced his panic to subside. They could still rescue Cain; it wasn't too late, not yet, but they'd need to hurry. He began to run back to where the horses were stationed, with Kelgar following close behind him.

* * *

Cain sat cross-legged on the floor of his cell, holding his head in his hands and staring at the ground. His worth to the guards had been used up, and his hanging was scheduled for noon. Without even a window to see the sun, he had no idea what time it was; they could come to collect him at any moment.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and felt his body shudder with protest at even the smallest movement. His beaten body felt weak, and the dried blood stained some of his skin a disgusting dark maroon.

A short and morose laugh spilled from his lips suddenly. _I was so close to being with you again, Abel, _he thought bitterly. _To know that you are alive, but not able to even see you… How cruel._

The door to his cell slammed open, but Cain didn't jump; he didn't even look up. Guards flanked him on either side and yanked him up on his feet; his aching body had gone numb, and he didn't flinch even as the wounds were disturbed. The guard directly in front of him slapped him hard across the face, as if to check and make sure he was even awake. "It's time."

Cain's head moved with the slap, but he didn't cry out. He took a breath and raised his tired eyes to meet those of the guard's. "Let's get this over with." _I'm ready_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Abel slipped through the crowd of people that had gathered in the center of the small village. He wore a bulky jacket to hide his armor, the hood pulled up to conceal his face. Sliding by people and nudging them to the left and right, he made his way to the very front of the crowd. From where he stood he could see Kelgar standing with a group of guards, and the two's eyes met for a moment. Kelgar made the faintest movement with his head, and Abel returned the nod. All they had left to do was wait.

Suddenly, the murmuring crowd grew silent. A nervous bead of sweat dripped down Abel's face, but he wiped it away and focused his attention on the scene. As the guards stepped aside to reveal Cain, Abel let out a quiet gasp. _Cain,_ _what have they done to you? _The redhead was very pale; fresh scars and bruises littered his body. A deep cut on his shoulder shone ugly and red, having gone untreated. Dark bags were underneath his tired and accepting eyes. Abel clenched his fists, but steadied his breathing to avoid making a scene and betraying his position.

* * *

From the stage, the executioner placed a hand on Cain's back and shoved him forward towards the rope in the center of the platform. He raised the noose and slipped it over Cain's neck, tightening it so there was no room to slip out.

King Jiol stood off to the side of the stage, his arms crossed over his chest as he scowled. His eyes scanned the crowd, and he felt anger wash over him. It seemed the plan of executing the prisoner in public had failed in bringing out the prince. Still, at least they would be able to deal a blow, however small, to their forces. Grunting in annoyance, Jiol stepped forward and made an announcement. It was short and simple; the red-haired man was to be hanged for treason and conspiring against the King. It wasn't entirely a lie, but none of the villagers were aware of the real truth.

Finishing his short speech, Jiol moved out of the way. At least he could watch with pleasure as one of the traitors got what he deserved. Raising his hand, he gave the signal to go ahead.

Nodding, the executioner stepped forward. He reached his hand forward, and yanked the lever that pulled the ground out from Cain's feet.

* * *

Hovering in the trees like a sparrow, Jeorge clutched his bow in his hands. His heart pounded, but he kept his hands steady as he quietly pulled an arrow from the quiver strapped onto his back. Hooking it to the bow, he stared at unfolding scene as he waited for his opportunity. Wrapping his fingers around the end of the arrow, he pulled back as far as he could, aiming carefully. When the chance came, he took it in stride and let the arrow loose, grinning as it sailed through the air towards its mark.

* * *

At the exact second that the executioner pulled the lever, an arrow whizzed through the air. The rope locking Cain to the stage was sliced clean through, and the redhead fell through the opening and connected with the ground with a loud _thud_. Less than a second later another arrow appeared and buried itself in the executioner's chest; he fell over dead without making a sound. Screams sounded through the crowd as the people stampeded to escape, fearing for their lives.

Kelgar took this opportunity to give a harsh shove to the guard that stood next to him, pushing him into the row of other men who all knocked into each other and stumbled, crashing to the ground in a mess. King Jiol, watching the mess, let out a loud snarl of rage. He cowardly turned his back and ran from the unfolding battle, quickly returning to the safety of his towers.

Abel threw off his jacket and raced forward, slipping a knife out of his pocket and releasing Cain of his bindings around his neck and wrists. "Are you okay?" Kneeling, Abel man grabbed the other man's shoulders and helped him sit up.

Cain didn't respond right away; he was confused, and in shock. Immediately recognizing the voice that spoke to him, he raised his dark gaze and locked eyes with Abel. His breath caught in his throat, and time seemed to stop.

Reaching up with his now-freed hands, he threw him arms around Abel and pulled him close into a tight hug. "I thought you were dead," he whispered, burying his face into Abel's shoulder.

Although surprised at Cain's sudden movement, Abel leaned into the hug and wrapped his arms around the redhead's torso, being careful not to disturb the lacerations that littered his bare back. "I'm right here," he spoke softly and soothingly, his chin resting on Cain's uninjured shoulder. Cain's grip tightened, as if he were afraid that Abel would slip away through his fingers once more if he let go.

Abel was yanked out of the euphoria of the reunion by a tap on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Kelgar standing there with a worried expression. The crowd had thinned, but people were still running and shouting loudly. "I hate to interrupt," Kelgar yelled over the noise. "But we need to go. Can he walk?"

Reluctantly separating himself from the redhead, Abel stood. Grabbing Cain's hand he helped him to his feet; he was a bit wobbly at first but soon regaining his balance. Placing a hand on his good shoulder, the green-haired cavalier grinned. "Ready to get some revenge?"

A smile slowly spread on Cain's face, and his heart pounded loudly at the thought of fighting next to Abel like they always did; it was a feeling he never though he'd get again.

"Let's do it."

* * *

Watching the chaos from the safety of the towers, Gharnef removed his hood and turned to snarl at the King that had retreated earlier. "You said the brat of a prince would show," he practically hissed, his eyes dark with anger.

Jiol stumbled over his words, trying to come up with an excuse. "Well, I t-thought he, because, uh—"

"Useless," Gharnef mumbled. With a wave of his hand he sent Jiol flying through the open door, just in time for another face to appear.

"I have returned." The monotone voice of a woman sounded through the room. She stared at the wizard with blank eyes, her mouth held in a thin line. "The Alteans have been located."

A disturbing smile wormed its way onto Gharnef's wrinkled and leathery face. Picking up a wooden staff from the table in the middle of the room, he placed it in her hands. "You know what to do, now."

Nodding, the purple-haired woman turned on her heels and left. Clutching the staff in both hands, her glassy eyes stared blankly ahead as she took long strides to where her prey awaited.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Although a little unsteady on his feet at first, Cain soon fell back into the rhythm of movement. Moving alongside Abel and Kelgar, they ran the short distance towards the four tall towers. Throwing open a door and racing inside, Kelgar led them down a hallway and took a sharp left into a room; various weapons lined the walls, and he immediately reached for a steel axe. Abel and Cain both looked longingly towards the row of lances, but they'd be useless without horses. Instead, they grabbed large steel swords.

"Prince Marth and the others are taking care of the guards in the adjacent towers," Abel explained quickly to Cain. "We just need to grab Kel's sister and get out. Let's go!"

Nodding firmly, the other two followed the green-haired man back out into the tower's main halls. Almost immediately they were greeted with a group of guards; the armored men charged at them, stumbling carelessly with their drawn weapons. They met with the sharp end of Kelgar's axe as he ripped through the first of them, swinging the weapon with all of his might and not holding back. Cain and Abel soon joined in, hacking and slashing their way through the halls of the tower.

Cain felt breathless; the adrenaline pumping through his veins fueled his strength, and he let out a short laugh as he sliced off the arm of one of the guards that had foolishly extended it within Cain's reach.

Hearing the laugh, Abel stole a quick glance in Cain's direction to see him barreling his way through like he always did. Abel smiled; it was good to see him acting so lively. "Haven't lost your touch, eh?" The green-haired man yelled over the ruckus.

"You know I aim to please!" Cain shouted his favorite phrase as he grinned at Abel, waving at him with the guard's severed arm. Tossing it over his shoulder, he continued to fight, ignoring his protesting muscles.

With the latest batch of guards taken care of, Kelgar led the way down another hall. "We're almost there," he said with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the others were still keeping up. "Just a bit—Hey!" The door he was racing towards suddenly slammed shut, and he stopped short. Abel skidded to a stop as well, and Cain almost crashed into him.

"I believe you've made a wrong turn." A light and feminine voice seeped out from the shadows in front of the closed door. A soulless laugh followed the words, short and bitter.

"Who's there?" Kelgar demanded, gripping his axe with both hands.

The bitter laughter continued, and a tall figure slipped into view. "I'm hurt, Kel," she pouted slightly. "Surely you would recognize your own sister?"

Kelgar gasped, his eyes widening. "Krystal?" He stepped forward slowly, lowering his axe.

Cain looked back and forth between the two siblings. "Krystal is your sister?" Suddenly, he realized why Kelgar had seemed to be so familiar earlier.

Abel stared at Cain and Krystal in confusion. "Wait, you know her?"

Taking advantage of the confusion she had caused, Krystal grinned and raised her hands, flicking her wrists forcefully. Kelgar was lifted off his feet and thrown backwards; he sailed through the air and crashed into the ground. With a childlike giggle, she pointed her index finger at the two incredulous soldiers, her other hand poised to strike. "You're next."

* * *

Watching his servant's work through a large glass sphere, his leathery face split into a disturbing smile. The plan was going smoothly, and it pleased him. However, his mood turned sour as the door to the room swung open and the cowardly Jiol appeared.

"The Altean army has broken through the prison!" He gasped, out of breath as if he had run all the way to tell the news.

"Of course they have, idiot," Gharnef snarled in Jiol's direction. "You're supposed to be down there, dealing with the brat!"

The King frowned, wiping sweat away from his brow. "R-right." He hesitated before moving, but the harsh glare he received from the wizard sent him scurrying away.

* * *

Prince Marth led a small group of soldiers down the halls of one of the towers; they were searching for any surviving victims, but hadn't come across another soul that wasn't a guard. _What is here that needs so much protection?_ Marth thought with a bit of frustration.

Wandering down empty hallways, checking every room in vain, they reached the end of the tower. One large room remained, and Marth entered it without much hope of finding anything. The moment he stepped over the threshold, the door slammed shut with a loud metal clang, blocking him inside and separating him from the others. Confused yelling sounded from the other side, but it was muffled from the thick walls. Not turning his back, Marth drew his sword from its hilt and grasped it tightly.

Suddenly, bright light flooded through the dim room, and Marth raised an arm to shield his eyes. Blinking against the harsh rays, he gasped as his vision settled. Surrounded by red-vested guards, King Jiol himself stood in the center of the room, a smirk settled on his face.

Not hesitating for a second, Marth launched himself forward, shoving the two bodyguards that protected Jiol's front out of the way. Raising a leg, he kicked the King in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards on the ground. Marth pinned Jiol by planting his foot directly on his chest, holding his sword so that its tip rubbed against the skin on Jiol's neck.

"Stay back," Marth warned the approaching guards, pressing the sword a little harder; Jiol gagged slightly at the pressure near his throat.

The king was surprised at Marth's strength, and he waved the guards off. "W-wait," he grunted, fearing for his life. His sword was in his hand, but he wouldn't be able to raise it before Marth reacted. "You'll regret it if you kill me…"

"You've committed atrocities of the worst kind against my kingdom and my people," Marth spoke firmly, but with an undertone of disgust. "I cannot forgive you." Rearing back slightly, he prepared to make the final blow.

"Wait!" Jiol yelled out once more. "Don't you want to know the fate of your mother and sister?" A sneer spread across his face as his words hit their mark; Marth hesitated for just a moment, and that's all that Jiol needed. Reaching up and grabbing the prince's leg, he heaved him to the left with all his might. With a grunt, Marth hit the ground hard, but jumped back up within seconds.

The distraction proved to be enough; Jiol was already on his feet and on his way out of the door on the other side of the room. Marth watched in frustration as the king fled the room like a coward, the guards trailing after him like ants. Racing towards the door as it slammed shut, the prince twisted the handle to no avail; it was locked tight.

Suddenly, the previously barred door on the opposite side burst open and the soldiers who had accompanied Marth poured in, weapons poised, but they faced naught but an empty room.

"Marth!" Merric darted up to the prince, his hands raised as if ready to strike. "Are you okay? What happened?"

He placed a hand on the young mage's shoulder. "Calm down; I'll explain later. We need to meet up with the others and get back, quickly."

Noticing the dismissive urgency in Marth's voice, Merric nodded firmly and turned on his heels. Frowning and giving one last look at the locked door that the king had disappeared into, Marth followed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Abel leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding Krystal's spells. He shot a desperate glance towards Cain, who gripped his sword but wasn't poised to strike. "What should we do?"

Frustratingly gritting his teeth, Cain mimicked Abel's movements of jumping and dodging out of the way of the mage's spells. This wasn't the Krystal he knew; her eyes were pale and glassy, and her too-wide grin seemed forced and out of place. Hesitating a moment too long, he let out a pained yell as a fireball slammed into him. His arms flew up to protect his face; burns formed on his exposed flesh. Cain fell to his knees, clutching the red and raw skin with his hands.

"Cain!" Abel shouted, powerless to help as his friend crumbled to the ground. A graphic flashback seized his mind, and he felt his heart skip a beat as he realized the cruel irony of the repeated situation; Cain being struck down mere feet away, with Abel unable to do anything to help. _No… I can't let that happen again_! Raising his sword, he charged Krystal, unconcerned for her safety.

Krystal dodged easily, slipping underneath his blade and stepping to the side. As Abel whirled around, she flicked her wrists violently. He was lifted through the air and slammed violently into the wall; with a grunt of pain, he was momentarily stunned, unable to move. Taking advantage of his incapacitation, Krystal approached him, her right arm outstretched. She placed her hand on his temple, her disturbing grin never faltering. She leaned down next to him and whispered in a raspy voice right next to his ear.

"Time to die."

* * *

Kelgar groaned, rubbing his head and leaning up. Although his vision was blurry, he could see Cain on the ground a few feet away. Using the wall for support to get to his feet, he staggered over towards Cain, who was still gripping his forearms, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey. Hey!" Kelgar gave Cain a little tap, and his dark eyes flew open. He let go of his arms, revealing nasty burns that made his skin raw and red; more scars that didn't look entirely out of the place with the rest of them.

Turning his head to see Kelgar hovering over him with his hand extended, Cain grabbed it and accepted the help as he got to his feet. "Where's Abel?"

Before Kelgar had a chance to reply, a piercing scream split the air. Knowing the source immediately, Cain and Kelgar raced towards the sound. It was continuous and bloodcurdling; the thought of such anguished cries coming from Abel made Cain's stomach churn.

Abel writhed in agony on the ground, clutching his head in both hands, yanking at it as if he were trying to rip it off. Screams poured out of his mouth, and blood began to drip over his lip and down his chin. His body thrashed violently, his eyes squeezed shut as his face contorted in pain.

"Stop!" Cain shouted, raising his sword. "Leave him alone!"

Another disturbing and child-like giggle escaped from Krystal's pursed lips. "He's made such a good experiment for my spell," she teased Cain, as if testing his anger.

Any hesitation for concern over Krystal's safety was gone, and Cain charged at her, his eyes gleaming with hatred. However, before he could take more than a few steps, Kelgar grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back.

"Wait," Kelgar commanded, forcing himself in front of the enraged Cain. "Krystal… I love ya sis, but you really can be a bitch." He grabbed her small hands with his large ones, holding them in a position so she couldn't use magic. She squirmed in his grasp, but wasn't strong enough to wrench herself free from his grasp. Murmuring a half-hearted apology, he leaned back and then bashed his head hard against hers.

As their foreheads collided, Krystal's eyes rolled up in the back of her head and she collapsed into Kelgar's arms, unconscious. Supporting her with one arm and rubbing his temple with the other, he laid her against the wall.

* * *

With Kelgar taking care of his Krystal, Cain's attention switched to Abel, who was still twisting and turning on the ground. The screams had gradually grown strained and faded, but his mouth still hung open, as if he were trying to make noise but it refused to come out.

Cain dropped to his knees and lifted Abel's body up, leaning his upper half up and supporting his back. "Abel," Cain spoke his friend's name loudly, but received no response. "Can you hear me?"

The only sound that Abel made was the small noise of ragged breathing as air scraped against his raw throat. After a moment he began to cough, and blood flew out of his mouth, splashing onto Cain's bare torso. Abel's chest made the slightest motions, rising and falling in time with the raspy breathing noises. Breathing a sigh of relief at signs of movement, Cain wiped the spit and blood away from Abel's mouth with his fingers.

"… Cain?" Abel croaked; it hurt immensely to talk, but he didn't have the energy to even wince.

"I'm here," Cain cooed gently, brushing pieces of hair out of Abel's face. "We need to go."

"Ah…. Sorry…." Another cough wracked the green-haired man's body, and he went limp, his dazed green eyes fluttering shut. The faint movements of his chest stopped altogether, and he slumped against Cain's torso.

"W-what?" Stunned, Cain's eyes widened in fear as panic flooded through his mind. "Abel! Abel, wake up!" Gently shaking his shoulder, Cain tried to rouse his partner, but he received no response. _No…_ "Wake up, dammit!" His voice cracked as he pleaded to no avail.

Feeling around for any sign of a pulse, Cain desperately moved his hands across Abel's neck. His fingers pushed against the soft skin, but didn't find their target. The harsh reality of the situation felt like a slap in the face.

Cain pulled Abel closer, wrapping his arms around his unresponsive body. Tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled over, rolling down his face in waves. How cruel fate was; returning them together for what felt like mere moments before ripping Abel away from his grasp once more… Cain clenched his hands into fists, hanging his head in defeat. What else could he do?

"Please…" Whispered begs continued to come forth from Cain's mouth. He was vaguely aware of footsteps approaching, but he didn't move his gaze from Abel as Kelgar kneeled next to him.

Kelgar placed a hand on the redhead's shaking shoulders in an attempt to calm the distraught redhead. Cain wrenched away from Kelgar's touch, his hands grasping the cloth of Abel's tunic. He gently laid him back down flat on the ground, and placed his hands on the green-haired man's torso. In a last, final attempt for some kind of sign of life, Cain began to pound his hands on Abel's chest, hoping to provoke some reaction from his heart.

As tears streamed down his face, Cain put as much pressure as he could in every beat of his hands. "You can't die here, you bastard," he choked out between sobs. "Not here, not like this! _Wake up_!"

After one particularly harsh strike, a burst of air flew from Abel's lips. Ragged breathing sounds came from his throat as he gasped in short bursts, his chest swelling as air re-entered his lungs. Writhing temporarily in Cain's arms, Abel fell still once more, but his lips stayed slightly parted to allow air to flow, and his torso trembled ever so slightly.

Staring incredulously as Abel began to move again, Cain was stunned for a moment and his mouth hung agape. "Y-you…?" Grabbing onto Abel's arms he pulled him close, burying his face in the green-haired man's neck. "You can't leave me so easily, asshole." The relief was obvious in his muffled voice, and fresh tears spilled over and left streaks down his blood-stained face.

As Cain hugged Abel close to him, a harsh pounding sounded on the barricaded door down the hall. Kelgar jumped to his feet and ran to remove the piece of wood that blocked the handle, and then yanked it open.

Prince Marth waited on the other side of the door, a small number of soldiers gathered behind him. He gave a quick nod to the man who must be Kelgar, as he fit the description that Abel had given him a few days before. He strode quickly over towards the kneeling Cain and placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "We need to leave, immediately," he spoke softly but firmly. He didn't know how safe it was to stay in these towers, and they needed to escape as soon as possible.

Leaning down near them, Kelgar grabbed Krystal and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her light weight with ease. Cain slipped his hand underneath Abel's back and the other underneath his thighs, lifting him up to carry him bridal-style, the unconscious cavalier's head resting against Cain's bare torso. "Is Lena with you?" He asked earnestly, his eyes shimmering with concern and still wet from old tears.

Marth shook his head. "She's waiting for us in the village. We need to go, _now_." With a wave of his hand, he beckoned the soldiers to follow, as he led the way out of the room and began to head out of the towers.

With his heart aching as badly as his body, Cain gripped tightly onto Abel's limp body as he broke into a run to catch up with the retreating others.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Cain stood outside of the room where Abel had been confined to ever since they returned from the dreadful tower. Krystal and Kelgar had taken them to the attic of an inn called The Dragon's Nest, far enough away from the towers to be safe. Once or twice he began to lean against the wall, but immediately straightened, the untreated lacerations on his back sending pulses of heated pain down his spine. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, his arms crossed careful to as to not disturb the burns that still stung.

Prince Marth leaned on the wall about a foot away, his worried blue gaze fixed on the soldier who had an unreadable expression. The silence was uncomfortable, but there was nothing to say.

Before long, the door to the room opened. Lena and Krystal emerged; after the latter had returned to her normal self, the two had become quick friends. However, as they politely addressed the prince, their faces were grim and pale. Cain snapped out of his blank stare, suddenly giving the two healers his full attention, and resisting the urge to barge into the room without invitation.

"How's he doing?" Marth asked, uncrossing his arms from his chest.

Exchanging a quick glance with Krystal, Lena frowned as she gave the bad news. "The dark magic really took a toll on him," she explained slowly. "It seems the most targeted area was his mind." She hesitated. "It's hard to help if we don't know what we're healing."

Cain's clenched his hands into fists. He didn't know what he was expecting; that Abel would suddenly be awake and well again, ready to practice sparring in the field? Even though he knew that it was impossible, a piece of him still wanted to believe that this was nothing more than a bad dream. He took a deep breath and finally spoke. "Can we see him?"

Lena nodded, and moved out of the way. Cain took a step forward to enter, but Krystal reached her hand out and gently touched his shoulder. "Cain," she spoke firmly, but there was an undertone of desperation in her voice. "Please, let us help you."

Cain's lips tightened into a thin line. "I can bandage my own wounds. You need to put all your energy into helping Abel." His tone left no room for argument, and his dark and tired eyes narrowed. He shrugged her off and stepped through the doorway, anxious to see the green-haired man, even if he wasn't awake yet.

As he caught sight of the unconscious soldier, Cain's breath caught in his throat. Abel's dark skin looked unnaturally pale. The redhead didn't move until he saw the gentle rise and fall of Abel's chest, and then he let out a long breath, grabbing the back of a chair that sat in the corner and moving it next to the bed before slumping down in it.

Marth followed him into the room, frowning as he saw the deathly state that Abel was in. He gently placed his hand on Cain's shoulder in empathy. Cain jumped at the sudden touch, but didn't push him away. Not taking his eyes off Abel, he rested his head in his hands.

"He doesn't deserve this," Cain mumbled in a voice so quiet that Marth wondered if he had even been supposed to hear it.

Marth glanced down; he couldn't read the mixture of emotions lingering in Cain's eyes, but he could guess well enough how he was feeling. "No one does," he murmured in response.

His hands balled into fists, Cain didn't bother to fight the frustrated tears that brimmed in his eyes and allowed them to stream slowly down his face. After a moment he spoke again, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm going to stay here for a while longer."

Nodding, Marth hesitated for a moment before turning to leave. Glancing over his shoulder, he realized again just how close the two cavaliers were. When they were separated, it was like seeing one lonely half of a soul. With a small sigh, he left Cain in peace, quietly shutting the door behind him.

* * *

For the next few days, Cain rarely moved from the chair besides Abel's bed. Surprisingly, the redhead did not keep silent. Often times, when one passed the room, they could hear Cain talking to Abel, mostly reminiscent stories from years past and tales of the mischief they had gotten into.

Late one night, with growing concern for Cain now as well as Abel, Jagen reached for the door handle to check on the two cavaliers. However, he stopped when he realized how oddly quiet the room was. Opening the door slowly, he stepped across the threshold to find Cain fast asleep, his back arched as he slumped on the side of the bed, resting his head on his arms.

Feeling a stab of sympathy, Jagen plucked the duvet from the other bed in the room and draped it across Cain's slightly shivering shoulders. He stood there for a moment longer, looking at the young cavaliers. He'd never had time for a family of his own, but had treated the two of them as sons, and it pained him to see them go through so much. After sending a quick prayer to the Gods asking for Abel's safe recovery, he slipped out of the room.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

A sudden cold touch startled Cain awake; he hadn't realized that he'd fallen asleep. As he moved, a blanket fell from his shoulders, and he grabbed it before it hit the floor; someone must have come in while he had been dozing. Looking up, he saw Krystal's familiar face staring down at him.

"Sorry to wake you," she said quietly. "I need to check on Abel."

Cain raised a hand to cover to the large yawn that slipped from his mouth. "Message received," he mumbled, standing up and allowing her to use to chair while she worked. He watched her for a moment, observing the pale blue sparks that burst from her fingertips and danced across the surface of Abel's skin before seeping into it with a quiet crackle.

So involved in watching Krystal heal, Cain didn't notice the presence of Lena in the room until she lightly tapped him. Jumping, he turned to greet her, and noticed that she was carrying a tray that contained a few small loaves of bread and a glass of water. She set it down on the bedside table and held a loaf out to Cain.

He looked at it dumbly for a moment, not moving even as she waved it at him. "Abel can't eat that," he said finally in a deadpan tone.

"It's for _you_," Lena said, exasperated. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Cain finally took the loaf as she shoved it at his chest, and thought about her question for a moment. "I don't remember," he grumbled, lowering his tired eyes from her scolding stare. He raised the bread to his mouth and took a small bite, but it felt dry and tasteless on his tongue. Placing it back on the tray and ignoring the motherly '_tsk_' that came from Lena, he hovered over Krystal's shoulder. "How's he doing?"

"He's definitely showing signs of improvement," Krystal said calmly, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. "His breathing is stronger, and the color is returning to his face."

Cain hadn't noticed the subtle changes, but as he looked closer, he realized that the sickly pale patches on Abel's dark skin had faded. For the first time in over a week, his eyes lit up and he let out a long breath. "Will he wake up soon?"

Krystal didn't answer, but exchanged a quick and nervous glance with Lena. Lena nodded subtly, accepting the responsibility, and Krystal turned back around to tend to Abel.

The pink-haired healer sighed before speaking. "Cain, there's something we need to talk about," she began. "Sit down."

Cain felt his stomach drop. Any conversation that started like that was never followed by good news. He slowly sat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side of the room, and she joined him. He didn't speak, but waited for her to continue.

"Abel might be waking up soon," Lena spoke slowly, picking each word carefully. "But… Well, we don't know exactly how the magic affected him," she admitted. "We don't know how much he'll remember of the incident, or even if he'll remember anything at all."

Nodding slowly, Cain stared at Lena with anxiety in his eyes, not sure where she was going but knowing that he probably didn't want to hear it.

"Cain…" She hesitated. "The Abel that wakes up after this might not be the one you knew. I just don't want you to be surprised if he's different."

He gripped the sheets on the bed so hard that his knuckles went white. "I don't care," he whispered, staring at the ground. Raising his hard gaze to meet Lena's, he repeated himself louder. "I don't care if he's different." He stood from the bed, his shoulders and hands shaking as if he was restraining himself from throwing a punch at the wall. Channeling his frustration into his voice instead, he began to yell. "It's so _cruel_ to keep him like this!"

The pain in his voice made Lena wince. She stood as well, her arms extended to calm him, but he dodged her touch and took a couple long strides over towards where Abel lay.

"Abel, the great Panther, stronger than twenty soldiers, trapped here like this!" He yelled bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder if death would have been less painful." Angrily, he pounded his fist once on the bed, shaking its frame. "You're so close, you're _right_ here, but you've never been farther away!"

"Cain!" Lena called his name, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"How long must this last?" The red-haired soldier practically screamed at the unconscious Abel. "How much more must you rest? When will this torture end?" He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling violently.

Krystal, who had been stunned for a moment by the cavalier's sudden outburst, knelt next to Cain and placed her hand on his forehead. Before he could swat her away, she sent a small burst of energy from her fingers into his head. His wet eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward; she grunted as he caught him before he hit the floor, laying him down gently.

"What did you do?" Lena demanded, fear and confusion in her eyes. She had stayed back while Cain rampaged, but now she stood over the two of them, one hand covering her mouth in shock.

"He's fine, just sedated," Krystal explained. She wrapped one of Cain's arms over her shoulder and motioned for Lena to do the same. Together, they dragged him towards the empty bed, setting him in it gently. "He hasn't been taking care of himself. He's hungry and exhausted, and that's a bad combination with this amount of emotional trauma." She couldn't keep the sympathy out of her voice.

Lena nodded, understanding, her expression stained with worry. She took this opportunity to change the bandages that Cain had shoddily wrapped himself; they were stained through with blood from his half-healed scars that he had disturbed. Since he was sedated and unable to argue, she used just a bit of magic to stop the bleeding before wrapping the wounds on his forearms and back in clean bandages. She sighed and looked back towards Krystal. "What now?"

Krystal shrugged her slender shoulders. Standing, she motioned for Lena to join her. "There's not much more we can do now," she said quietly. "We'd better leave them to rest."


End file.
